


Wasted Time

by Hthar



Category: Final Fantasy XIII Series, Lightning Returns: Final Fantasy XIII
Genre: F/M, Game Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-30
Updated: 2016-04-30
Packaged: 2018-06-05 12:01:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,897
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6703789
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hthar/pseuds/Hthar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>[Submission for Hoperai Week 2015 (link from tumblr), for the March 1st Prompt, Discontent.] Lightning drags Hope out of the Ark for a final day on Nova Chrysalia, before the world is annihilated.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wasted Time

**Author's Note:**

> AO3 A/N: Finally starting to port my stuff over here from FFnet! I'll still be posting things to that site (don't want to miss my readers there!), but I'm looking forward to hearing from a new AO3 audience.
> 
> Original A/N: I should preface this by saying it's an absolute impossibility… maybe. It's the sort of thing I could imagine happening in-game, as part of a setup for my post-LR fic "On Salvation." But I didn't want to be lazy and just dedicate that whole fic to Hoperai week ;-)

xxx

Wasted Time (Discontent)

 

Lightning stood before Yggdrasil for the twelfth time, ever so slightly startled when a gigantic, gleaming orb sprouted from the bloom at its top.

Against all odds, she had earned back the lost time and unlocked a forgotten dungeon with it – an Ultimate Lair. Hope felt his mind go blank as a string of encyclopedic knowledge on the subject spilled forth from his mouth of its own accord. It wouldn't have been the first time he lost track of where the fruits of his research ended and Bhunivelze's near omniscience began. He rattled on about every last detail but had no idea from where said information had sprung.

It occurred to him, somewhat offhandedly, that this should bother him, but instead Hope focused on Lightning with a practiced nonchalance.

Lightning didn't seem concerned about the prospect of thirty-three floors of horror, in any case. She gazed at the tree, her brow crinkled in mild irritation.

"Hmph, guess that means I'm finished."

Hope turned in his chair. If it were possible, he would have felt… something. Perhaps bemused, or even outright puzzled. As it stood, he simply filtered through all the possible meanings and determined that the appropriate response was another question.

"What do you mean, 'finished'?"

"Aside from this ultimately pointless dungeon, there isn't a single soul-saving quest left," Lightning explained, stretching briefly on her way to the couch. "Maybe it's just the culmination of a hundred attempts, but God's gotten his gil's worth from me."

"It wasn't a paying gig," Hope noted. "You mean to tell me you killed off every monster breed, including all the Last Ones? I'm well aware that was one of the hardest quests."

_I should be surprised. Or at least impressed. Why can't I muster that much?_

Lightning flopped back on the cushions with a heavy sigh and tossed a reddish object at his head. He reflexively caught it in the air and turned it over in his hands. It was an apple, nothing more.

"Yes, they're all extinct. The 'gil's worth' was a figure of speech," she said. "Not that I didn't get paid for every damn completion. I can only assume that was God's doing – monsters, drunkards, vagabonds and bandits aren't exactly willing or able. Yet I somehow ended up with a heavier money pouch for the next trip to the forge. Of course, it'll all be pointless in another twenty-four hours. Maybe I should go on a shopping spree."

Hope munched on the apple while he listened to her brief rant. A list of anticipated sensations streamed behind his eyes to detail the experience – crunchy, sweet, juicy, slightly tart…

Tasteless.

_Why can't I even enjoy this?_

"Thank you for the snack," he said dutifully. He settled the core next to the console, staring at it and wondering what had gone wrong.

"I have to say, I didn't think Aryas apples would be on the bland side."

Lightning sat up suddenly, narrowed eyes zeroing in on the distant core. "They aren't."

With that, she pushed up from the couch and strode to his chair. She snatched up the core and nibbled at a bit of the remaining flesh, looking momentarily annoyed.

"Well, that's another experiment down, anyway." She propped a hand on her hip. "I'll need a little more help with the next one, though."

Hope looked up at her, not actually perplexed but knowing enough to raise one eyebrow. "What experiment? I'd be happy to take on a challenge."

"Remember the steak and the sheep's milk? I'm just seeing how certain objects change over the transfer in and out of the Ark. If you're on board with a final test, let's get started." Lightning extended her hand, and he stared blankly at it.

_Am I supposed to just… shake it?_

Hope did that, knowing he should have felt foolish, and was hauled out of his chair for the trouble.

"Wait, what—?"

They were already halfway to the warp pad.

"You-you can't be serious! You know I can't leave the Ark!" he protested, digging in his heels.

"Ever try?"

"Er, no, but I'm pretty sure God designed it this way…"

The possibility of escape had never even crossed his mind.

"We'll see about that," Lightning insisted, practically dragging Hope along. "We've got one whole day to waste before the world ends, and I'll be damned if you spend it stuck up here."

"But the chaos distortions!" Hope tried again. "I'm just the gatekeeper, and your guide!" He latched onto the bookshelf as they passed.

That was a wrong move.

Lightning huffed in frustration as she pried him loose, bent down and hefted him over her shoulder instead, buddy-carrying him the rest of the way. "To hell with the distortions. The chaos is everywhere, anyway!"

"Light, I _really_ don't know what's going to happen if you try this," Hope continued in vain. She had an iron grip around his legs, rendering his squirming useless.

_What if I just disintegrate? I should definitely care about that…_

And yet, he felt no fear.

Strangely, as the thought crossed his mind, Hope realized that he did feel one thing, and it wasn't terror. It was deep down, buried under layers of coded logic and the God-made cogs that ran his new body.

He wanted to go with her.

Lightning chuckled when he suddenly relaxed. "What, are you thinking about those Yusnaan banquets, now?"

"Not exactly, no."

Reaching the warp pad, Lightning stepped in and dropped him to his feet at her side. She maintained a hold on his hand.

"Hope, do _not_ let go."

He felt the slightest resonance in his chest as the green glow surrounded them.

"You know I won't."

* * *

The clockwork channel to the world below had not escaped the deafening wind of chaos. Dark energy pulsed around them, seeming to have no effect on Lightning beyond drowning her out. She shouted at Hope, shaking him as they were propelled along, terror and concern written all over her face.

Hope could not respond. From the pressure closing on his insides, he feared he might come out the other end as a steaming pile of flesh. He could hear his own voice, crying out from far away as the chaos pulled his fragmented soul to the surface, struggling to weave it together with the fibers of its foreign vessel – a vessel that was not willing to comply.

A rush of incomplete memories flashed through his consciousness along with the searing pain, and Hope tightened his grip on Lightning's hand, but in that moment the strings that held his puppet body ripped the entire container away from his soul.

He looked on, for a final disembodied second, as the empty vessel shot backward through the channel.

A whimsical laugh echoed through the darkness, and he knew no more.

* * *

"Wake up, sleepy head."

Hope jolted upright, his head swiveling quickly around the dim circle of visible space. A single crystal throne illuminated the area, where a young, pink-haired girl in black sat smirking down at him.

He'd never met her, but Lumina's reputation preceded her. Frustration and confusion swirled in his head with dizzying force.

_It's been too long since I felt_ anything _._

"Where am I?" he asked, pushing to his feet a bit unsteadily. "What do you want with me?"

Giggling, Lumina hopped down from her perch and skipped toward him. She stopped an arm's length away, cocked her head and brought a finger to her chin, looking up at him with the same knowing smile.

"That god of yours wasn't doing you any favors, was he?" she sang.

"As if you've done better," Hope retorted. "I've seen some of the so-called favors you bestowed on your victims."

"Now that's not fair," Lumina said, adopting a pout for all of two seconds before she laughed again. She prodded his chest in accusation. "They all handed me hopeless tasks! Soulless bodies, impossible dreams, long-dead pets… I had to pull some serious outside-the-box maneuvers, you know. Like the one I'm pulling now."

She punctuated the statement with a tug on something that jerked his neck down. It was a far-removed sensation, but Hope zeroed in on the source.

_I have a tie?!_

Hope snapped his eyes down and confirmed the fact, along with the rest of his uniform and adult body. He stood more than a foot taller than the girl grinning wickedly at him.

"My, you are dense. Maybe even more dense than your precious savior," she said. "I expect some gratitude is in order, then?"

"What's the catch?"

Lumina rolled her eyes and pranced a short distance away. "Have some faith, will you?"

"I have to know," Hope pressed, taking a few quick strides to catch her hand. "Just tell me what kind of bargain you're striking, here. That's all."

Lumina spun on her heel, smiling in earnest for once. Unlike her standard mischievous façade, it was small and secretive. It was achingly familiar.

_Who_ are _you?_

Lightning had mentioned the striking resemblance to Serah, but this girl was clearly not the younger Farron by any stretch. He was sure of that much.

Lumina reached up to pat his cheek. "Fine. You'll get this one little day, and that's it. Your awakened soul rejected that puppet God remade, but it _was_ your only body. This is a temporary vessel to match your soul – my own personal craft project from the chaos. Such a shame it's got a short shelf life."

"Thank you, in any case." Hope dropped his gaze, trying not to let the creeping tide of worry consume him. "But when the day is up… then what?"

"I don't know," she replied. Sadness crossed her features for a fleeting moment before she perked up again. The expression resonated with his newfound emotional sense, but Hope couldn't place where – or to whom – it belonged in his gradually resurfacing memories.

Lumina quirked a curious eyebrow. "Of course, you didn't know a thing, either, stepping out of that Ark. God had your poor soul paralyzed in there. You know what it is, don't you?"

"What _what_ is?"

"The Ark."

"I should," Hope replied, confused and almost insulted. "It's my own control center. I designed it."

"Well, that's what it _was_ ," Lumina countered. "God turned it into his personal Eradia garden. Yggdrasil can't exactly flourish in the chaos, after all. It needs a constant supply of purifying light to keep the darkness at bay. But you know what else it's been keeping at bay for all these decades, along with the chaos? The thing God himself can't see?"

She giggled to herself. "And he honestly thought it was purified into total submission by now."

"You mean my soul," Hope murmured, more to himself than to her.

_It can't be good for any_ normal _soul over time. Even Light's. The whole Ark must be functioning like a dampener._

"Ha! The brilliant Director Estheim finally gets it!" Lumina exclaimed. She clapped her hands with glee. "But nevermind all that. You'd better enjoy your last day on Nova Chrysalia. Don't make me regret helping you – not that I'm without benefit in this arrangement."

Hope wagged his head. "I'm afraid to ask."

_And I'm afraid I know you, patronizing little brat._

"Wouldn't tell, anyway," Lumina sang again. She curtsied and motioned above. "Sadly, it's time to go. Close your eyes and count to three."

Nerves notwithstanding, Hope did as he was told.

"One, two, thr—"

* * *

"Wake up, Hope! Come on, please…"

_God, my head._

It felt overloaded, cluttered and foggy. His eyes cracked open, focusing on the worry lines that marred the familiar face hovering over him. Lightning gasped, and he stared at her mouth as though he'd never seen it before.

"Are you… real?" The whispered question slipped out before he could filter the thought.

"What?"

His memories were still a jumble, going haywire with the reintroduction of emotional baggage, and he got the distinct impression that a gaping hole remained somewhere. Hope automatically slapped his hand to his forehead.

_Damn it. She's the savior, you idiot. She's more than real._

Lightning sat back, suddenly flustered. "I should be the one asking that question. What the hell happened to you in there?"

There was a defensive edge to her response. He supposed it made sense, given the unreliable nature of her interactions with Bhunivelze's 'Serah.' Even his own interactions with Lightning in the Ark were hollow and clinical, when he thought back on them.

"I-I'm sorry," Hope stammered, pushing himself up to her level. He rubbed at his temple, one eye open as he cracked a smile. "I'm just a little disoriented, nothing serious."

Lightning narrowed her gaze and frowned. "Makes sense that you'd feel out of sorts. I'm really not sure how you pulled it off, but you're…" She trailed off and cleared her throat, gesturing at the rest of him.

An unexpected laugh bubbled up from his stomach as Hope tried to explain, "You mean I'm myself! Believe it or not, I owe it to Lumina and whatever chaotic reaction tore the soul fragments out of my other body." He took a long breath, relishing the sense of excitement beginning to grow in his chest. "I can't tell you how much I hated being stuck like that. I couldn't even _feel_ the hate."

"Lumina did this?" Lightning asked, her eyes widening. "Why?"

Hope shrugged. "Who knows? Pity, curiosity, boredom… All I know is that she considered it a beneficial act to both of us. I only get this one day, though." With a grunt of effort, he pushed himself to his feet, extending a hand to Lightning. "We shouldn't waste any more time."

"Fair enough. Let's move." Lightning allowed him to help her up from the grass and immediately began to circle the area, calling for her chocobo.

Hope surveyed their surroundings for a long minute but couldn't place their exact location. The wide-open plains that sprawled before them were a match for the Wildlands' description, he just hadn't seen the terrain first-hand before. He had to admit it was beautiful, in the wild way that Gran Pulse had been.

As Hope looked on, a burst of blazing color broke the horizon. His breath caught at the sight of the last sunrise to grace the dying world, and he shielded his watering eyes. He had not seen the sun come up in nearly two centuries. He couldn't properly remember why he'd even gotten trapped in the first place, but he was certain of one thing.

_I can share this moment now…_

Glancing around the immediate vicinity, he suddenly noticed that Lightning was gone. The panic-fueled spike in his pulse caught him off-guard.

"Light? Where are you?"

"Here." The answer came from down the slope below, where she sat astride her former eidolon. "Hop on! We've got a lot of ground to cover."

It took significantly fewer strides to reach them than Hope anticipated, to his delight. He placed a hand on the chocobo's side, preparing to jump on, but Odin sent him stumbling backward with a sharp flap of his wing. He craned his feathered head around to stare Hope down, a glint of challenge flashing through his glassy eyes.

"Whoa, take it easy. I'm just an old friend…" Hope tried. The chocobo scratched the ground and made to peck at his head, and Hope backtracked further with his hands raised.

"What's the matter, boy?" Lightning stroked her companion's neck as she strutted him in a small circle. She positioned him to face away from Hope and fed him a small helping of greens. With her free hand, she subtly motioned for Hope to try again.

He took a running leap onto the chocobo from behind but barely managed to keep his seat when Odin shot forward, several loud _kwehs_ of protest echoing off the nearby cliffs.

"Brakes!" Hope cried, finally just clamping his arms around Lightning for dear life when they leapt from the ledge, his eyes shut tight. The initial dip became a smooth glide, and his pounding heartbeat gradually receded from his ears.

"Hope?"

"Y-yes?" Sections of her hair slapped against his face as he opened his eyes. He became aware of just how glued he was to her back, a rush of heat running up his neck.

_This… is really nice. And a little terrifying_ _._

Lightning turned enough to side-eye him suspiciously. She tugged on his interlocked arms around her waist, an immediate indicator to release her, and he backed off. Mostly.

"You need to calm down."

* * *

They made excellent time across the monster-less plains and canyons, slowing only when the sight of familiar ruins made Hope stiffen in his seat. A thousand needles seemed to stab into his skin, one after another, and he tightened his grip on Lightning's cape.

_Academia._ It was undoubtedly the remains of his shining city, reduced to crumbling chunks of twisted roadway, structural skeletons and jagged glass.

"What's the matter?" Lightning asked, half-turning for a moment. She'd obviously been paying attention, enough to take a more leisurely pace, but Hope got the feeling that she could not understand his pain.

"I lived here, once," he murmured. "I always knew it couldn't last forever. I just wish the chaos had taken it all, without a trace. It's like God left it here for me – another reminder of humanity's failure. Or my failure, anyway."

Lightning brought them to a sudden halt. She twisted around to face him fully, her eyes narrowed as they read his features. "At what point did you fail, exactly? Enlighten me."

Hope blinked away, unable to hold her gaze. "Look around you. This was once the most advanced city ever conceived, the new home to shelter Cocoon's citizens. And look there," he said, gesturing at the faint outline of his man-made moon hanging near the horizon. "That was our ultimate achievement – my safe haven for humanity's future. Now, it's a hollow, deteriorating shell, infested with chaos. Maybe I had the best intentions, but it all came to nothing."

_And then, I fell apart, too. I left humanity to the chaos._

_What_ happened _to me?_

"We both have a lot to make up for, Hope," Lightning said, her tone suddenly soft around the edges. "No use dwelling on it."

Her reply startled him. Hope looked up to see her faint, sad smile for all of a heartbeat before she faced forward, spurring Odin to move along.

_That smile. It couldn't be…_ Hope felt the twinge of familiarity, the pressure on the gears of his mind, but he couldn't push past the cusp of understanding.

They rode in silence for a while, over gentle hills, through a small stretch of forest, and around a sheep farm. The destination became clear when Lightning steered the chocobo along a steep switchback and into another glide toward a distant ledge of trees. Several pieces of bright red fruit burdened the branches, and she plucked two in passing.

She dropped one into his palm. "Try that."

Looking at the apple, Hope actually salivated in response and chuckled at the strangeness of it all.

"What's so funny?" Lightning asked, raising an eyebrow and continuing to observe him as she chomped down on her own apple.

He shook his head, unable to stop smiling. "Oh, I just haven't _wanted_ to eat anything in a long time."

Lightning pinned him with her dead stare, swiping her hand across the stray juices around her mouth. "Then eat it already. That's enough introspection."

"Fine," he said, laughing again. He finally bit into the apple with a satisfying crunch, the sweet and slightly sour juices pooling in his mouth. It was hard to believe that the Aryas fruit he spent the next couple of minutes devouring had grown on the same tree as the one Lightning brought to the Ark.

Hope couldn't say if it was the apple or himself behind the difference.

In the end, Lightning plucked the scrap of a core from his fingers before he could scavenge any more and dabbed his chin with the tail of her cape. A smug grin pulled at her mouth when Hope waved her away. He cleared his throat, beating back the heat of embarrassment in his face.

"I have a sleeve, you know," he muttered. He feigned wiping imaginary residue from his mouth. "So. Where to now?"

"First, we should swing by Sazh's airship, but after that, Yusnaan seems like the obvious choice," Lightning replied. "You can see Snow, watch the fireworks, try every food under the sun… Anything you want."

Hope's stomach rumbled in agreement. "I'm really liking this plan."

* * *

Reflecting on their brief twelve days together, Hope mused away the short train ride to Yusnaan thinking of strategies to maximize their precious remaining hours – some of which he did not voice to Lightning. It was about so much more than visiting Snow and sightseeing. His wish list had grown exponentially by the time they pulled in to the station, covering everything down to _Steak a la Civet_. One item near the top of that list, though, was the crown jewel of trivial desires.

He wanted Lightning to wear her elegant, deep mauve dress. If he was going to be obliterated at six a.m. along with the daily distortion, Hope couldn't think of a better parting image.

His own demise was, after all, highly probable. Cursory analysis all but screamed it. He could feel the nausea creeping up again, as it became less and less bearable to stomach the thought of leaving her without a trace…

"Hope? Hey, snap out of it."

Lightning tugged his arm, bringing him back from his daze just in time for him to step onto the platform with only a small stumble.

Belatedly, he noticed the satin glove against his skin and traced it up her arm to the matching dress, to her face and the silver adornment on her head. In a flash of moments that he'd missed, she had transformed.

"Light, you're… I-I mean you…" he stammered. Words – and apparently lung function – failed him.

_You look like a dream._

Hope gathered his wits in a long breath, trying to cover his nerves with a smile. "You don't waste any time, do you?"

Lightning dropped her eyes to her matching heels.

"Of all the silly requests…" she scoffed under her breath, brushing the bangs out of her face. "You've seen this getup plenty of times. I did a whole performance in it for you, remember?"

"For me?" The question slipped out before he could censor his unfounded gratification. Reason was quick to give him a mental backhand and leave the sting of irony. The performance _had_ been his idea. And she had, in fact, stabbed God's statue on stage as a pointed display of subversive intent.

Not that he took it personally.

Lightning's hand raised up, clearly poised to flick his head, but she thought better of it and pinched the bridge of her nose. "It was your brilliant plan, remember? You even made me practice the lines."

"Oh, I'll never forget that," Hope remarked, suppressing his snicker. "I couldn't tell if you were bored to death or just controlling your rage—"

A sharp slap to the arm had him laughing outright.

"Watch it. If that stage hadn't been destroyed, you'd be _on_ it tonight," Lightning threatened. She clopped down the stairs in her heels with impressive speed, and Hope jogged to catch up.

He hooked her arm in his, ignoring her little jump of surprise, and slowed them to a leisurely stroll.

"Light?"

"Hm."

"You really want me to go on stage?" he asked, nudging her with his elbow. "I do have the whole thing memorized…"

Her returning 'nudge' made him wince. "Don't flatter yourself."

They landed in the Glutton's Quarter first, and Lightning encouraged him to sample everything while saving room for the especially delicious dishes at Seedy's. Hope thought he might pass out when it was all said and done, but he couldn't say no to a single part of his last – and his only, ever – marathon meal. Eventually, they agreed to take a shopping break and tackle the Banquet of the Lord for a proper dinner closer to midnight.

So they pressed on, albeit sluggishly, through various shops and finally the forge, where Lightning actually asked his advice on upgrades. She improved what she could on one particular shield of worth, moving on to new purchases.

"Tch, worthless magic potential for the price," she grumbled about an otherwise perfect blade – one that captured her full attention. Unlike the others, Lightning held it aloft, testing its weight. She handed it over to Hope and watched him, clearly trying to read his face and waiting on his assessment. The bone-handled, razor-edged Heaven's Cloud certainly looked deadly enough to slay the next unfortunate creature to cross her path. Not that many enemies remained.

Hope could think of two. He ran his finger along the blunt edge, mulling over the weapon's stats when leveled against whatever mysterious beast lurked inside the Ultimate Lair.

More than that, he wondered if it could make a scratch in the god of creation.

_There's no chance she'll go along with Bhunivelze's plan. Not anymore._

He considered how strange it would be if this blade enabled his survival. If he narrowly escaped oblivion from the distortion and the Soulsong, and if Lightning challenged God to save the multitude of lost souls, then maybe they could live to see the new world together.

All previous sacrifices notwithstanding, he was not content to disappear. Not when she was so close.

"You should get this one, Light." Hope placed a significant amount of gil on the counter, and at her questioning look, explained further, "You can worry about the casting with a different schema. You should play to your strengths, and speed is definitely the foremost. Quick staggering, powerful attacks, and flawless defense – you've done beautifully with that."

Lightning took the weapon but stared at him with open suspicion. "You've been paying more attention than I thought."

"I tend to pay very close attention when humanity depends on it," Hope replied coolly.

Lightning seemed to want to say more on the subject, but instead she only mumbled a few words of gratitude, secured the sword, and took his arm again. She pulled him away from the merchants of Armor Alley, silently and swiftly leading the way down Central Avenue until they reached a dense collection of dancing couples around Olga's ongoing vocal performance. The song had just come to an end, prompting brief applause.

"Ah, if it isn't the savior!" the woman on stage called over the noise when she caught sight of them. She cleared her throat into the mic and waved a hand in Lightning's direction. "My Berdy has a divine new song, written specially in your honor. Have a dance at the end of the world, won't you?"

Hope could practically see every muscle in her body tense at once. Lightning stared at the stage for several seconds, her hold on his arm constricting painfully. The curious eyes of at least twenty other people could not have helped.

"Olga, thank you," she finally forced out, "But I-I—"

"We could use a cue," Hope finished. Berdy immediately launched into his piano intro while the other couples took their places.

Lightning remained a statue. Hope circled to face her, adopting his sweetest, most entreating face until she loosened her fisted hands and stopped scowling. He took her left hand in his right, managed to avoid retaliation when he held her waist, and breathed a sigh of relief.

"You did say anything I want," he hazarded.

Lightning grumbled a curse under her breath, but when her other hand found his shoulder, he knew the battle was won.

"You're lucky the world is ending," she huffed.

A violin joined the tune, Olga eased into a wordless harmony, and they took the first steps in flawless synchronization. Lightning took particular care to follow his lead, and Hope couldn't help giving voice to an observation from her last – and possibly only, ever – stage appearance.

"Don't hold back on my account," he suggested. "I already know what you're capable of, Light."

"It's a slow song," Lightning muttered. "Hardly worth theatrics. Don't be disappointed if I forego any flaming swords."

Hope chuckled near her ear. "I'll keep it simple."

Back, forth, and around they moved with the poignant tune. Hope lost sight of the surrounding couples and haze of lights, his ears soaking in the music Lightning had inspired. One thing was clear – it hadn't been written for Olga, as Berdy's other three hundred fifty-something compositions from before. Even without lyrics, the notes spoke of Lightning's struggles, her sadness, but also the promise of a new start.

_She has to be feeling something. She has to know._

A minute, perhaps two had passed when Lightning mumbled a command under her voice and a flash of iridescent light surrounded them. Hope's stomach pressed into his spine for a suspended moment as the tingle of static crawled over his skin. The resulting state felt oddly familiar. Berdy's refrain continued on a loop, and the other dancers around them repeated a limited number of steps in place, never straying more than a few feet from their positions.

"Light, what was that?"

"Chronostasis," she explained. "We can't exactly dance the night away."

Hope cracked a smile and slowly spun her to the left. Without the drag of time, she felt lighter in his arms. "Why not? You could be fighting the night away, but you haven't mentioned plans to that effect."

"I didn't see much point," Lightning replied. "Your battle pep talk had nothing to with the Lair, either, now did it?"

_Ah, she's onto me. Why am I not surprised?_

"That was solid strategy in general," he covered with a chuckle. "Whatever the enemy. You're so graceful, they forget that you're deadly."

With their time extended, and with potential onlookers locked in the loop of stasis, she let him twirl her again.

"And if that enemy happens to be a certain deity?" Lightning asked, in time with the pressure of her fingers tightening around his shoulder.

"I've said it before," he replied as he pulled her the slightest bit closer, "But it bears repeating. I'll always be on your side. Even if Bhunivelze reclaims me after tonight, I will find a way to fight back."

Unexpectedly, a smirk played on her lips. "God really didn't know what he was getting into with this arrangement."

"He's out of his depth," Hope agreed. He returned her smile, the warmth in his chest radiating to his fingertips and his face when he added under his breath, "He couldn't read my heart if he did find it."

Lightning's smile faltered. "Hmph, then mine's safe enough. I can't find it myself, these days."

She made a good point. He hadn't been able to put his finger on it, but some vital piece of her was missing. Hope squeezed her hand, not sure if any of his seemingly bottomless supply of reassurances would do the trick.

_It must be close, or you wouldn't care so much._

_Maybe you'll find it when you find Serah._

_I really do know how you feel._

"Is there… anything I can do to help?" he asked at length. He was startled when another rippling wave of light ensconced them. The score progressed toward a building finale that could not reach its end. Lightning had halted the clock a second time.

"Yes." The steel returned to her eyes, and he knew that precious moment of vulnerability had passed, no matter how many extra moments they might have gained. "Help me end this. It's too late for me to get back everything I lost in this world. But in a new world, Serah might have a second chance."

There it was again. Hope honestly wondered if Lightning ever thought about a future for herself, rather than for her sister. It gave him the same sinking feeling he'd imagined should have hit him in the Ark, so many times.

He had watched his two closest friends bury themselves in guilt for centuries over the very same woman. He couldn't fault Serah, of course, but her death had taken three more people down with it.

The radiant woman in his arms, his partner in battle and dance, had entombed herself for five centuries on her sister's behalf. Enough was enough.

"We all need this second chance, Light." A flicker of indignation sparked behind his eyes, and Hope dipped her on the next dissonant chord. He gathered her back in a heartbeat and added, "That includes you."

"Maybe I'll get a chance," she said, clearly dismissing his words as she glanced over his shoulder. She clenched the upper left corner of his shirt in her gloved fingers. "And maybe not. It makes no difference, as long as Serah survives with the rest of humanity. What happens to me is irrelevant."

Her words were knives in his chest. Hope fumbled his steps at her claim, blinking hard at the stage, the twirling people, and the soft twist of rose curls that fell down the side of her neck as he struggled to recover.

_No! What happens to you… It means everything._

He took the plunge and pulled her close.

"Don't ever say that," he whispered. "It matters to me."

"And what does that change?" Lightning pushed back only enough to look up at him, frustration that verged on pain etched across her face. "When has anything we cared about mattered one iota to the powers that be? You know it, and I know it. We're nothing but tools in the hands of a heartless god."

Hope kept up the dance, barely swaying them to the music, but his gaze skittered away from the blue eyes burning into his. She believed everything she was saying. The weight of the truth – what she didn't yet know – bore down on him until he couldn't hold it any longer.

"Maybe that's all I am," Hope said, "But not you. You're closer to a goddess than a tool, now."

_He won't be letting you go any time soon, either._

Lightning uttered a brittle, empty laugh. "I'm just a fully upgraded tool. I guess that may be no different than a goddess in Bhunivelze's eyes, though."

"Who cares what God thinks, anyway?" Hope asked. "You're just Light, in the end."

"And that means something?" she scoffed.

"Well, you're a guiding light…" he tried, uncertain of his words, but the reality of it caught him with conviction. "To our souls. To everyone."

Lightning shook her head, but the ghost of a smile had returned. "Let's not get started on the cheesy significance of names, here."

"I can't help that it's true," Hope protested.

"It's still cheesy." Lightning released his shoulder long enough to place a finger over his mouth. "Now, I'd like the hope of humanity to keep quiet so we can finish this dance."

They settled back into the same intimate sway, his heart soaring when she made no move to retreat, instead resting her cheek against his collarbone. He could feel the faint thud of her heart against his chest. And while the organ was obviously in working order, he had always sensed that she harbored a cancerous loneliness on a deeper level, its existence forever denied. There was no time left for him to properly tend to it.

_Does it count, to have wanted the chance?_

Inevitably, the world around them cranked back into motion with a short flash, and the spell was broken. The lilting melody wound down to its conclusion, the stares returned, and they awkwardly pulled apart. Hope fought to hide the grin that crept over his face when his partner blushed.

"We should hurry and catch Snow," Lightning said in a rush, snatching his hand to lead the charge. "We're wasting time."

_No,_ Hope thought. _This has been anything but a waste of time_ _._

Still, she certainly didn't waste any more breath with talking along the way. They all but ran through the Augur's Quarter, blowing past dozens of curious stares and not stopping until they had reached the Patron's garden. Snow was likely to be on a higher floor overlooking the city, alone.

Not a soul was present outside, either. And with the size of the chaos infusion crawling over half the grounds and the majority of the mansion, Hope could see why. The writhing darkness seemed to be inching nearer.

He reached a hand toward it, gasping for breath when the life force seemed to be drawn from him. It sent him to his knees.

The chaos receded, but beyond Lightning's exclamation of alarm in his ears and her arm supporting his back, Hope was aware of familiar, girlish laughter.

"Ah-ah-ah," Lumina scolded. She danced into view, a blur of black, white and pink, and patted his head. "You'd better not be calling it a night, Hope. Not after all the food, the shopping, the dancing…" She twirled in a little circle, bent down and lifted his chin. "We were having so much fun!"

"I wouldn't call _this_ fun," Lightning threatened, her hold around his shoulders tightening. "What exactly are you after?" Once his vision had fully cleared, Hope thought she looked about ready to strangle the girl.

But Lumina's words had already captured most of his attention.

"We?" Once his lungs recovered, Hope breathed the single word and stared up at the strangely familiar manifestation of chaos. The same sad smile crossed Lumina's face as before, and his eyes went wide.

_Her heart – it's with you! Or it_ is _you…_

In that instant, she brought a finger to her lips and shook her head. Hope couldn't fully wrap his mind around it, but he was sure he'd hit the mark. He could hear her voice echoing in his head.

" _God can't ever find me. I'll keep her safe, until she's ready."_

Hope snapped his mouth shut.

_I think… I understand._

"That's a good boy," Lumina said. She planted a kiss on his forehead and hopped out of range with a laugh, spreading her arms apart. "You might wanna hold off on that reunion, by the way. Our heroic Patron never stopped drawing all the chaos to himself, so this whole mansion's steeped in it."

As Lumina skipped further into the infusion, Lightning called out, "You never answered my question!"

"Just keep him away from the chaos!" came her fading reply.

"She could've said that from the start," Lightning muttered in aggravation. She helped Hope to his feet, giving him a once-over. "Are you all right?"

Hope tested his limbs and found everything in working order. "I seem to be. It felt like the chaos would've drained me dry in seconds, though."

"Then we're leaving." Lightning muttered another command under her breath, transforming from fighting actress to savior before his eyes in a blinding flash. She took his hands in a firm grip. "Are you ready to go?"

"Now?" Hope asked, confused by the gesture. "Where? We aren't even at the station."

"We can teleport. I'm sick of this noisy place, anyway," she huffed. "The Dead Dunes are calm at night, and I might as well rid creation of whatever that Lair has to offer while we're at it."

Hope chewed the inside of his cheek in thought. "I suppose the dinner reservation wasn't that important. But you know I won't be any use to you, here. I could at least assist with navigation from the Ark."

"Oh, this is nothing compared to the ruins. Trust me." Lightning half-smiled and squeezed his hands once in reassurance, the teleportation command already on her lips.

* * *

Hope had been lying on his back for ages, contemplating what was left of their universe. He checked his watch, noting that two hours had already drained away – seventy-two hundred second-long grains of time, far more precious than the cool sand beneath him.

The breeze traced its soft fingers over his face, and the stars above shone clear and bright, but chaotic clouds were gathering far on the horizon. Tomorrow would come exactly one more time. A dark, final day.

_I should be with her. I have too much to tell her, and too much to ask._

He hadn't come close to making up the centuries lost. It was a foolish hope to think a single day could do much good, and even though it was more than he could have dreamed under the circumstances, he was far from satisfied.

A doubtful voice in his head whispered for him to give up. It spoke of his very existence being a sham – a loaner body for a fragmented soul, soon to be extinguished. Perhaps without a shred of proof that he'd ever lived. And worse, it prodded him with questions about the Lightning he knew, whose heart had become a rogue entity.

The chasm of tomorrow stood between them and a new beginning. Hope wasn't sure they'd ever be together with their friends in that other world, short of a miraculous bridge.

In the depths of his patchwork soul, he was coming to accept a truth about that hypothetical bridge. Someone would have to be flung to the other side, first, or Lightning could never build it. Humanity could never cross it.

His fate, and all of their fates, rested in the hands of the woman fighting God's ultimate abomination thirty-three levels beneath him. She had failed the first two attempts, reporting back to the surface for recuperation, and in those brief minutes Hope had learned the basic description of Ereshkigal.

More unsettling than an experimental being of chaos, however, was the rest of Lightning's report after her initial defeat. She swore that Hope had been describing the dungeon's layout through her earpiece, regaling her with commentary on the mysterious nature of the Lair and its probable purpose. Hope had spent the better part of ten minutes arguing with her about the impossibility of it all before drawing the only logical conclusion.

His puppet self was clearly alive and well in the Ark, dutifully manning the console. A shiver ran down his spine again at the thought.

_Is a part of me still in that body? Will my soul find its way there, when this one expires?_

_What good can I do, though, if I'm back in the hands of God?_

A flash of reddish light caught his eye from the nearby warp stone, mere meters away. Hope jumped to his feet and sucked in a sharp breath when Lightning materialized before him. She staggered forward with a hand to her forehead, her boots dragging briefly through the sand before she collapsed into his arms.

"I need… to restock…" she managed between labored breaths. "But it's over."

"You should rest, for now." Hope lowered her to the moonlit slope, propping her up against the jutting remnant of a crumbled pillar. He pulled a small vial from his pouch and held it to her lips.

Moments after taking the potion, Lightning relaxed as the color returned to her cheeks. He could only guess that she'd exhausted the capacity to cure along with the rest of her inventory.

"Thank you," she sighed. She leaned her head back against the stone, staring off across the black, placid surface of the only sea in Nova Chrysalia.

Hope wondered if it comforted her with memories of the coastal home she'd lost a millennium ago. He got no indication one way or the other from her blank expression.

"So, did you hear anything else from—from the Ark?" he stammered.

"Hollow reassurances," she said. "I'm no shining example of human superiority. The number one qualifier is to _be_ human."

Hope heaved a long-suffering sigh. "Light, you _are_ —"

"No." Lightning faced him, open disdain flashing in her eyes. "Whatever it is that God's made me into, it doesn't deserve the title of 'human.' Maybe that's the price I'll pay to be the savior humanity needs, but I'm not going to pretend there isn't a cost."

_You think you're beyond saving?_ His heart hung in his throat at the thought.

"If that's what you think of yourself," Hope said, making no attempt to hide the pain swirling in his eyes, "Do you think the same of me? Am I less than human? Are we both just destined for oblivion, and that's the end of it?" He raised a fistful of sand in the space between them and slowly let it sift through his fingers. As he dusted the remnants from his palm, he watched the connections spark behind her widening gaze.

"Tools to dust, and dust to the wind."

After several tense seconds, Lightning reached out to turn his face. "If your soul is here, now," she began, "I should be able to save it."

"It isn't that simple," Hope said.

"Why not?"

_Why not? As if I would take my own salvation and leave you like that!_

"My part isn't finished," he continued instead, with a steadiness that took him by surprise. The gray light of approaching dawn was making itself known, even through the chaos on the horizon, and his chest seized up. He placed his hand over hers, never turning from her face. If he was wrong, he wanted to drink in that sight.

"Bhunivelze is going to take me back. And when he does, he'll get more than he bargained for. I'll see to that, somehow, before the end."

Lightning opened her mouth to counter him, but all that came out was a sigh. She shook her head in disbelief and pulled him into an awkward embrace.

"You'll take him down from the inside? Is that what you're trying to say?"

His arms tightened around her as a nervous laugh escaped him. "Am I losing my mind?"

"You won't find judgment here. I'm about to challenge Almighty God with a sword and shield," Lightning replied, a self-deprecating humor to her voice. He felt her arm shift and knew she'd checked her watch. Her voice dropped to nearly a whisper, tinged with the barest trace of fear.

"Any last words, before we jump into this?"

Their time was hanging by a thread. Hope's heart shot into his throat again. It pounded anxiously for what might have been its last beats in a life to be erased. He clung to her with every broken fiber of his being.

_Please remember me._

"Eyes front, I guess."

* * *

_Why am I here?_

In the familiar circle of dim light, he noted the empty crystal throne at his back. Lumina was nowhere to be found. Hope looked down at the translucent substance of his hands, swirling with golden light, and finally stumbled upon the reality of his state.

He distinctly felt like himself, but in between bodies. For whatever mysterious reason, he'd been granted this moment of reprieve.

And when Lightning appeared, stock-still with her back to him on that strange platform of limbo, he knew exactly what to do.

"Light," he called.

She immediately spun to face him, confusion rippling over her features and in her halted movements. "Hope."

The purpose to his existence pierced him like a blade. He had to make every word count, down to the last.

_It's time to build this bridge._

"I've come to say good-bye."

xxx


End file.
